


A Nice Delusion

by TheWordsmithy



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWordsmithy/pseuds/TheWordsmithy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford has been seriously contemplating the romantic turn his relationship with Arthur has taken. Zaphod tries but fails to see the reason this is so important to Ford. Maybe there doesn’t need to be a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nice Delusion

“So, Ford, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you’ve fallen in love.”

“Well, it’s not so much that I’ve fallen in love as it is I’m more ready now to act on some love that I’ve been in for quite some time.”

“Okay, whatever. You’ve fallen in love.”

“Yes.” Ford wasn’t going to debate his semi-cousin on the semantics of his feelings.

“With Arthur.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re coming here and telling me that you might want to actually settle down with him? Just because you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, but…why?”

“Why what? Why am I in love with him, why am I thinking about settling down, or why am I telling you about this?”

“Well…all three.”

“All three. Okay.” Ford didn’t make eye contact with Zaphod as he spoke. Instead, he looked (somewhat anxiously) for a seat and found one in the form of the chair of the control room in which they now stood (or rather, in which Zaphod still stood and in which Ford now sat). Ford continued to not make eye contact with Zaphod as he continued to speak. 

“The reason I love him…well…do you really need a reason to love someone?”

Zaphod took a seat in the chair beside Ford. His right head looked over at his semi-cousin. His left head looked out at nothing in particular. “Well, it’s convenient. Especially if the person you supposedly love has no redeeming qualities whatsoever.”

“I beg your pardon!” Ford said, in the most abrasive, unapologetic tone that made it quite clear that he didn’t intend to beg anyone’s pardon at all. “He does have redeeming qualities!”

“If he does, then I’m not seeing them. I’m just seeing an under-developed simian life form who goes around wondering what’s going on and asking for tea.”

“He’s more than that,” Ford said, irritated. “He’s…he’s nice to be with and he’s got the most interesting perspective on things, and sometimes it’s just refreshing to be with him and hear what he has to say about things. It’s…it’s just nice.”

“So I’m getting that it’s because he’s an under-developed simian life form who goes around wondering what’s going on and asking for tea that you like him. I’m beginning to see how stupid this is.”

“Anything sounds stupid if you say it like you’re saying it,” Ford said. “Arthur Dent is not as stupid as you’re making him sound. In fact, he’s not stupid at all!”

“Uh, excuse me.” Arthur’s voice, mild and not without a tinge of its usual confusion. He had overheard he conversation while passing by the room and felt compelled to see what it was about. “Are you talking about me?”

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Zaphod said, not bothering to address Arthur’s concern. “He hears his own name, and he doesn’t say ‘Why are you talking about me behind my back?’ or ‘What kinds of things are you saying about me?’ He says, ‘Are you talking about me?’”

“Yes, we’re talking about you,” Ford said, not bothering to address Zaphod’s concern. “If you don’t mind, could you, uh, go off somewhere so we can continue talking about you?”

“I don’t see why you need me to go away if you want to talk about me.”

“It’s stuff you wouldn’t understand,” said Zaphod.

“Oh, I understand full well that you just don’t want me to hear whatever it is you have to say,” said Arthur. He folded his arms and lifted his head, scoffing like one scoffs at someone who has just retracted an offer to go out to lunch at a fancy sandwich shop upon the realization that the person receiving the offer probably has no taste where it regards sandwiches. “Very well. I’ll go off somewhere so you can continue talking about me.” As he strode out of the room, into the hall, he added, “Just so you know, I can still hear you!”

Ford and Zaphod waited for a moment. One of Zaphod’s heads turned to look down the hall and see if Arthur was still there. If he was, he was far enough down the hall so as to remain unseen.

“Well, anyway,” Zaphod went on, “So you think he’s kind of nice and you like watching him be his stupid, funny, human self.”

Ford sighed an infuriated sigh. He didn’t want to try to correct Zaphod anymore.

“But other than that, what are you trying to tell me? You want to settle down with this Earthman who doesn’t have any particularly interesting or redeeming facts about his existence. You want to stop being a hitchhiker and settle down on a planet with him.”

This fact was a little harder for Ford to admit than the first. It was one thing to admit fond feelings for someone who didn’t have anything about them that particularly induced fond feelings. It was another thing to admit that the fond feelings induced were so fond and so strong and so important to him that he was willing to quell his desire to see and experience every exciting, weird, amazing thing in the galaxy so he could live with the person who induced these fond feelings.

“Let’s face it,” said Zaphod. “You like doing what you do. You like not caring about anyone or anything and just seeing how much trouble you can make, how many parties you can go to, and how drunk you can get. That’s your life.”

“That’s your life, too,” Ford said accusatorily.

“But do I ever talk about ‘settling down’ with Trillian like it’s a real possibility?”

“No, I suppose you don’t,” said Ford. “I suppose you just don’t think like that.”

“And you do.” One of Zaphod’s heads nodded at the point. “Huh, interesting. I actually thought you thought more like me.”

“I thought I thought like you,” said Ford. “Maybe I thought wrong. Maybe I only thought I thought I thought like you. I thought –” He paused, noting his excessive usage of the word “thought”, and decided to end it. “I guess I was trying to be like you. Like you said, just doing whatever I want to do.”

“Are you trying to tell me this is bad?”

“Well, it doesn’t seem to be one of the more helpful developments of my personality.”

“I wouldn’t think there’s anything helpful about caring.”

“It’s because you don’t care.” There was more than a hint of judgment in Ford’s voice, much there is more than a hint of scratchiness in a very uncomfortable woolen scarf. “Maybe if you cared, you’d see why caring about people and thinks makes you feel…I don’t know, more alive, more real, more meaningful.”

“I think meaning is overrated.”

“Because you don’t have any. Caring, meaning…Perhaps not having it keeps you from valuing it. Or maybe you don’t have it because you don’t value it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You know, I agree. It doesn’t matter.”

“I can hear both of you,” said Arthur. “Are you trying to say that I don’t matter?”

“No, and don’t take things so personally,” Zaphod yelled at him. “Zark off and leave us alone.”

“Zaphod!” This elicited real indignation in Ford, who slammed his fist on the arm of his chair and glared over at his semi-cousin. “Don’t be rude to him.”

One of Zaphod’s heads laughed as the other said, “Ford, you’re funny when you’re trying to defend that guy’s feelings or whatever you’re doing, you know that?”

Ford didn’t find anything funny about it, but he wasn’t really expecting to find the humor that Zaphod apparently found.

“Okay,” Zaphod went on. “So I don’t understand caring or meaning or whatever that stuff you’re talking about really is, and I guess I corrupted you into being like me, or whatever. And I get that you think you love him and you want to settle down on a nice quiet planet and live out a nice normal life with him or something. I’m not going to question that anymore. But why are you telling me all this?”

“Who else is there to tell?” Ford said. “Well, there’s Trillian, I guess, but I don’t know if she’d get it. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d get it either, but I figured I may as well tell you because I actually really know you, and you know some of the things I’m talking about – I mean, we’re pretty similar in a lot of ways, wouldn’t you agree? Probably the result of spending so much time with each other when we were younger. And maybe it’s that similarity that’s causing such a difference in this conversation. Maybe it’s the fact that, now that I’m saying something completely different than what I’d usually say and what you’d usually say, it seems so completely different that you just can’t understand it. Maybe – you know, I don’t think I have to justify this.” He shook his head. “No. I’m not going to justify this.”

“What aren’t you going to justify?” said Zaphod. “Your feelings for this Earthman, the fact that you’re giving up the whole hitchhiking thing for him, or why you’re telling me all this?”

“Well…all three.” Ford got up and cast a look from Zaphod to the hall. “Maybe I don’t need to explain this. Maybe I’m trying to justify something to you that no one really needs to justify to anyone. Maybe I’m simply caught up in some ridiculous, delusional infatuation and I’m being overwhelmed by feelings that are making me say these illogical things. But if I am, I don’t care and I’m going to carry on in my delusion. Delusion is quite nice. I know this one is.”

“Are you still talking about me?” Arthur called out, sounding even more stroppy than usual.

“Finally I’m talking about you,” said Ford, walking out to the hall and leaving Zaphod behind in the control room.

Arthur went to meet Ford. “Did you – did you say I was delusional? Or a delusion? Or some usage of that word in reference to myself?” The stroppiness was subsiding somewhat.

Ford shook his head. “No. If I was calling you a delusion, then I meant it as a good thing.”

“Hmm, I see,” said Arthur. “This is obviously some strange usage of the word ‘delusion’ that I wasn’t previously aware of.”

Ford smiled and put his arm around Arthur’s waist, leading him down the hall. “There’s nothing wrong with delusion. Nothing at all.”

One of Zaphod’s necks craned over to watch them go. The other head didn’t see a need to watch the two enamored men’s departure. 

“Maybe they really are delusional,” he said to himself. With all three arms, he shrugged. “Oh well. Doesn’t matter.”


End file.
